


A Change of Pace Can Do a Man Some Good

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Series: I Promise You We Will Make Things Right Again [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But everyone falls in love with someone, Crossover, F/M, Falling In Love, Frerard, Kidding he hates it, M/M, Rikey, Ryan Ross has an awesome new job, Ryden, Stony - Freeform, first romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan Ross is the replacement for Pepper Potts because she got knocked up and New York just isn't safe anymore, not for a kid. And after acing the interview, Ryan's put on the job and forced to deal with the worst politicians America has to offer.</p><p>The only way he gets through it is the amazing coffee joint he has claimed as his own and the cute male barista that smiles way too bright for so early in the morning. </p><p>Adding Ray Toro's proposal, Frank Iero's relationship problems, Stark's inability to actually talk about all the stupid things in his head about a certain super soldier, he's kinda fucking exhausted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Pace Can Do a Man Some Good

**Author's Note:**

> so this took me months
> 
> literally months
> 
> thank fucking god it's nearly done yep so happy
> 
> it's Ryan Ross's own personal POV to his life and then the day of the proposal you saw in "Two Dreams Came True..." and then some.
> 
> i read this over twice, so i am so very sorry if there are horrible typos or sentence structures that leave you cringing or horribly confused. if it's too awful to ignore, message me the line and i'll fix it immediately. 
> 
> i can promise you, i don't own the band members nor the Marvel characters depicted in this WORK OF FICTION though i really would love for some of the stuff in here to be real but it never will
> 
> anyways, nothing's mine
> 
> thanks for reading~

Ryan Ross only got the job because he was the first person to show that he wasn't going to take anyone's shit.

He'd gotten word of this high-end career from his aunt, who was friends with the newly wedded Mrs. Pepper Potts, and had been offered an interview even though he was fresh out of college with a mere Law degree with a minor in Communications. Everyone else in the room, waiting to be interviewed, had to have been at least in their late 50's, with graying hair and wrinkles around their eyes. Ryan was barely twenty-five and had been stared at like a zoo exhibit.

The job was to be the Public Representative and Personal Aid of the one and only Mr. Tony Stark since Stark’s previous PR&PA had recently married Stark's driver, Harold “Happy” Hogan and was leaving New York for Miami, something about wanting someplace safer for a family. Ryan understood that. He was just too in love with the chaos of New York City to ever consider leaving her, even after the nightmare of the Battle of New York. He couldn't leave, but he understood when others had to.

Anyways, he'd been sitting in the waiting room, hoping his interview with Mrs. Potts wouldn’t be as much of a train wreck as he knew it would, when this man had stumbled into the room with a burn up his forearm the size of his fucking head. He was rambling about soldering guns and fire and shit and everyone in the room flipped the fuck out-- women were pressed up against the walls and men were holding up their hands against this single man, telling him to back off. 

Ryan, though, Ryan just saw the burn, only the burn, and sighed, before standing from his comfy chair and pulling the guy into it, sitting him down with a few harsh words on how he should shut up and then Ryan rummaged through his messenger bag. He went past the files containing his sparse credential documents and resumé and pulled out the first aid kit he brought with himself everywhere since the battle, grabbing the AmeriGel, and the gauze, washcloth, and a water bottle. 

He had wet the washcloth and cleaned the burn, ignoring the hissing of the man above him, before blowing on it to dry away as much water as he could. Then Ryan had uncapped the burn gel and dabbed it onto the burn with the dry end of the washcloth. He'd made sure the burn was covered in cool layer of gel before tearing a strip of gauze and wrapping it around the man's arm three times before fastening it with one of the metal pulls he kept attached to the gauze itself for easy-finding. 

“He's hired,” the man had said, and Ryan had finally looked up at his patient to see Tony motherfucking Stark looking down at him through a pair of goggles with cracked lenses, wearing a heavyweight nitrile apron and a grin. Ryan sat back on his haunches and just stared for a second, before glancing down at the burn he just treated and slowly connected the injured arm to Tony Stark's body.

Huh.

“I want him,” Stark was saying, and Ryan turned his head to see an exasperated Pepper Potts with her weight on her left foot, arms on her hips, and a bump in her stomach. Ryan hadn't known she was pregnant, though it explained why she really wanted out of the city.

“Are you sure he's the right man for the job?” Mrs. Potts sighed more than asked, and Ryan wasn't even offended, because he probably wasn't, he didn't even know why Mr. Stark suddenly wanted him. The man held up his bandaged arm and raised a brow. 

“He just dressed this piece of work without a question, pretty sure he didn't even know it was me. And you should seen it, Pepp, manhandled me into this chair and set to work, no funny business and a scowl that reminded me of you. He's basically you, Pepp, look at how pretty he is! I gotta have him for the job, I insist it's him.”

Mrs. Potts pursed her lips. “... You're the nephew of Margy, right? Ryland Ross?”

“Ryan Ross,” Ryan corrected almost timidly. Then he remembered he was a fucking professional and he stood, straightening his suit jacket and clearing his throat before holding out his hand. Mrs. Potts seemed impressed by how quickly Ryan brought on his poker face that was basically his default setting. “Ryan Ross,” he said again, though much more firmly than before. Mrs. Potts looked only slighty impressed, actually.

“Tony seems to like you,” she practically drawled, casting a wry smirk in the eccentric man's direction, who was still sitting down and looking up at Mrs. Potts like a child begging for a pet. “I would like to ask you a few questions, though, and--”

“Questions are bullshit, Pepp, he's perfect,” Mr. Stark interrupted. “As long as he can make a decent cup of coffee and answer the phone, we're golden. He's the one, let me keep him, it's only fair that I get the man I want you since you're abandoning me like this. Don't let Happy meet him, though, then he'll have a moral dilemma and he'll want a three-way. Which will be better for you because two guys but one of these two will take it up the ass from another man and that's just awkward for everyone.”

“No orgies,” Ryan stated flatly, forgetting the company he was in in favor of defending his moral and sexual standings. He tried having an orgy once-- never again. 

“I really like this guy,” Tony was rambling. “I'm serious, I don't give a shit about credentials or experience.”

“Fine,” Mrs. Potts said with more than a little frustration. “He's yours, god. Just don't do anything to get us sued.”

“Doesn't he handle that from now on?” Mr. Stark asked cheekily before standing and holding his hand out to Ryan. “Welcome to the circus and all that shit, you're my new conquest or whatever, conquest is weirdly sexual, actually, so let's just forget that one, shall we?”

Ryan Ross shook on it and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to hate this job.

. . .

Fourth months into his employment with Mr. Stark and Stark Industries and he already had a solid routine and it was pinned to his fridge, looking something like this--

500h: get up and jog ten blocks (minimum) within time limit.

530h: feed Cpt. Knots and make sure everything of value is hidden away so CK won't piss on it.

600h: get ready for the business day and take a shower (TAKE A SHOWER FUCK YOU KNOW YOU WILL REGRET THIS IF YOU DON’T DO NOT LET STARK SMELL YOU AGAIN)

630h: leave.

700: muddle through the Starbucks line and hope they get my coffee right this time.

730: head for the tower, be there by 800h.

800h-1900h: deal with/put up with/strangle/drug Stark.

1930h: whatever the hell I feel like.

The worst part of his day was, without a doubt, his morning coffee. Stark wasn't as bad as Ryan made him out to be because Stark was his job and Stark spent most of his time either locked away with his toys and covered in grease, or out in the city, kicking ass and pissing people off. Ryan mostly handled making sure Mr. Stark ate somewhat regularly and didn't do anything that could possibly have him fined, sued, ostracized, evicted, jailed, or downright exiled. 

No, the coffee sucked because Ryan was a picky little shithead at his best and he wanted his coffee how he wanted his coffee-- three extra shots of vanilla, no milk, at least four spoons of sugar, with caramel and whipped cream on top. 

Ryan was described as bitter by many people; they obviously hadn't tasted his coffee.

And it was around the fourth month of his routine (that now included having fucked up coffee) that he decided for a change. One that was maybe a bit further away from the heavily trafficked areas of New York and included customizable coffee and an atmosphere of relaxation, not livestock to the slaughter. He wanted a place to go to gear up for his day and be ready to face the music. Somewhere calm and maybe a bit more private than Starbucks. There were twelve Starbucks that Ryan knew of on the main island. He didn't like that. No, Ryan wanted some obscure place to call his own and impress nobodies with when he takes them out on mandatory “informal” business meetings on the latest thing Stark had blown to shit. 

So when he saw this little coffee place having its grand opening just down the street from Stark Tower, Ryan's inner-hipster went nuts and he changed his routine to something that would accommodate a slight detour. 

. . .

“Welcome to Behind the Sea,” a man with a beard behind the counter called out with a sort of tired cheeriness that Ryan found was easy to appreciate. This man could obviously empathize with the average individual. 

Ryan looked around the little coffee shop. It was decorated somewhat erratically-- he really liked the sea foam and surf that was painted on all the walls, but was thrown off by the snare drums and clocks that were hung up like pictures. The design didn't flow and Ryan kinda fucking loved it. Then there was the smell of coffee and hazelnut and vanilla in the air and there were only seven or so other people in the shop, all of them sitting quietly in their own corners and chatting in low voices, respected the serenity that Ryan felt in the air. 

He let out a content sigh and made a mental note to update and print out his new schedule come evening. 

He went to the counter and said his ridiculous coffee order and the guy just set to work, walking and talking.

“I recognize you from somewhere,” the man with the beard (and now from what Ryan could see, flip-flops (those totally couldn't be regulatory or whatever)) said as he started a new pot of coffee. “From the television. Are you an actor?”

“No,” Ryan said shortly, not used to being requested to talk before 8 o'clock. 

“Then are you a news anchor?” the man pressed, looking up at Ryan with obvious interest on his face. “New York is big and shit, it's not crazy to think we'd get a celebrity in here one day just to liven up their public image or whatever bullshit, but you kinda have the wrong hair for anything professional.”

Ryan frowned and ran a hand through his hair. He liked it like this—past his ears and straightened to perfection. A lot of people had told him it was unprofessional and that he should cut it, but Stark always insisted he kept it this way because apparently it helped him see Ryan as a less-intimidating figure who Stark could trust-- not a suit that would try to tear him apart. Well, Stark actually said it in a very different way, Ryan had just learned to speak the language.

Ryan understood and empathized with the sentiment, so he kept it longer for his employer's benefit.

“You're the guy on the podium,” the man suddenly blurt out as the coffee beeped to alert its completion. “The one for Stark Industries. His Rep, right?”

“Yep,” Ryan affirmed, brow furrowing, somewhat impressed. He'd never expected to be recognized. He was basically the mouth of Sauron with less people trembling in fear, but luckily nicer lips. You wouldn't know how much he actually did unless you read the books. 

“That must suck,” the guy laughed. “I'm Jon, by the way.”

Ryan smirked a tiny bit, because most people would just bullshit him on how lucky he was to work with Stark. Jon was the first person to actually assume that it was as shitty as it was. “Ryan Ross,” he returned.

Jon smirked back and handed him a cup. “Three extra vanilla, no milk, four sugar, caramel and whipped cream. That'll be one ninety-five.”

Ryan frowned, glancing to the chalk board that featured the available drinks and sizes. “That's the price for just regular coffee, not all of the other shit.”

“You work for Stark,” Jon replied with a shrug and a piteous look. “You've paid enough already.”

Ryan grinned wide and took his coffee after leaving a five dollar bill and not accepting the change.

. . .

“That smells amazing.”

Ryan looked up and nearly knocked his coffee off the table in surprise. He was up on the top level, waiting for Stark to be done with whatever he was doing to come up and have a conference or something with Dr. Banner and shit. And Stark was done, apparently, and right behind Ryan, getting all up in his business and smelling his coffee. Three days later of buying from Behind the Sea and that shit was still delicious, and Stark agreed. 

“What is that?” Stark asked, wrinkling in his noise like he was trying to gather more of the scent. 

“Coffee,” Ryan replied blandly, turning the page of the file he'd been handed. Being the lawyer of Stark was definitely the worst part of his job, considering he was holding yet another possible lawsuit thanks to IronMan's last run through the sitting with giant fucking rats thanks to Dr. Brood or something. “My coffee. What do you want?”

“Your coffee,” Stark stated simply. “You should give that to me, that shit you make is shit, really.”

“I make it how you tell me to,” Ryan argued with a frown. Stark just shrugged and made to grab for Ryan's coffee. Ryan hit Stark's hand with the lawsuit and scowled at him. “I'll get you some tomorrow,” he assured his employer. 

“Nah,” Stark said before bypassing Ryan's folder of fury and grabbing the coffee. He took a swig, gagged, and gave Ryan back the coffee. “Want some coffee with your diabetes?” he choked out before retreating back to his lair. 

Ryan made a face at his now-contaminated coffee cup, but drank from it anyways. It was fucking good coffee.

. . .

Ryan hadn't met anyone else who worked at the shop until he'd become a regular of a few weeks. It had only taken him a few days to realize that Jon Walker was made of magic. He also had some serious skill with an espresso machine and whiny New Yorkers. Being able to deal with people was always a sort of magical thing for Ryan. 

This being said, Ryan had been shocked this morning when he walked into the store to find someone who wasn't Jon at the register.

And fuck, he was gorgeous.

Ryan had always known he was gay, and after the verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse of his dear, loving father, Ryan had decided to not hide who he was from the world, but at the same time, not shove it in the faces of strangers. He dressed how he wanted when he wasn't business casual for work and that was it. No flamboyant parades or rainbow briefs, just him and his lonely gay self in his flat because finding someone worthwhile was hard when you worked for Tony Stark.

Except that apparently wasn't the case, because here was this fucking diamond among coal working in his favorite coffee place. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed towards the ceiling and looking unbearably soft while somehow retaining shape. His jaw was beautiful and accentuated by a tiny bit of stubble. His lips and eyes and even his nose were huge, but they looked perfect on his face and his skin was clear and his body was lean and toned and he was wearing this flashy, purple shirt under the black apron Jon always had on and Ryan was in lust.

“Hey there!” the man greeted warmly, smiling wide and barring perfect, white teeth. “What can I get'cha this fine Thursday morning?”

Ryan fought back a grimace and promptly fell out of lust because dear god, this man was way too cheery for seven in the fucking morning. “Coffee,” he said gruffly, moving to the counter and mourning his lost chance at some probably great sex.

Until the man gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “you're that regular Jon always talks about! Brian, right?”

“Ryan,” he corrected cautiously. “What does it matter?”

“I'm Brendon,” the man said as he began to bustle about the work station without prompting. “Jon always talks about you and your scarves and your work, and what's that like? Working with Mr. Stark? Does he fly around as IronMan all the time or is that just something the media wants us to believe?”

Ryan was going to get upset when he noticed that Brendon was apparently making his coffee from memory, the exact amount of sugar and everything. 

“That must be so weird,” Brendon kept saying, drizzling the caramel on liberally, and this was a man after Ryan's own heart, Jesus fucking Christ. “Didn't the Avengers just get back from Austria? What even happened there? I'm waiting for the sky to open up again with aliens, I'm so paranoid!” He was laughing as he spoke, writing something on the cup and then typing in Ryan's order into the machine. “Thank god we've got them to watch us, right? Anyways, that'll be one ninety-five, oh, thank you sir, here's your change, have a great day!”

Ryan stared at the coffee that was shoved into his hand and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd just been given free coffee by the hot guy in his local coffee store as he walked out the door. 

He was down the street by the time by the time he noticed Brendon had put what appeared to be his phone number on the mug with the message “call me” scribbled in sharpie, an admittedly cute, smiling heart right underneath.

Ryan blushed, took a sip, and was loathed to realized that his coffee tasted at least nine times better than it usually did.

. . .

“I don't get what the problem is,” Spencer was sighing over the phone at the end of Ryan's day. Spencer had already heard all about the shower incident when Dr. Banner accidentally Hulked out after being startled by one of Stark's brightest employees, Frank Iero (the bane of Ryan's existence). Now he was listening to Ryan's coffee dilemma.

“The problem is that I'm busy as fuck,” Ryan huffed. He tossed his new briefcase carelessly onto his stiff couch and headed to the kitchen for some orange juice. “This guy obviously wants a relationship, you don't write cute coffee messages with hearts for quick fucks.”

“Didn't want to hear that.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I don't have time for anything serious.”

“So don't let it be serious,” Spencer replied like it was obvious. “Keep it simple unless you want otherwise. Anyone with half a brain will know what to expect from you once they learn who you work for. It's not a big deal.”

“But he works at Behind the Sea,” Ryan groaned. “What if I fuck up and can't ever go back? It'll ruin my life.”

Spencer's eye-roll was practically audible from over the phone. “The only life you're ruining is your own when you play chicken like this, Ry. You need to get fucking laid and this guy might be good for you. Who knows, maybe a smile every morning is what you need.”

Ryan was going to respond when he got a text from Stark about faulty wiring and mangled feather pillows and how he needed Ryan's moral support to get everything cleaned up before Cpt. Rogers came for him for a S.H.I.E.L.D. thing.

Fuck this guy and this job.

. . .

“You didn't call me,” Brendon pouted four days later. “And you didn't come in Sunday when I was working. Is this your own special brand of rejection?”

Ryan shook his head, blushing. “I was... Nervous.”

Brendon giggled, immediately perking up when he heard that it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Ryan, and leaned against the counter. “You're also here early. Meaning you want to talk?”

Ryan nodded. Brendon gestured for him to sit at a table while he called out for Jon to take the register. Brendon jumped over the counter and sat across from Ryan. “Jon's gonna make your usual,” he told him cheerfully. “What's up, Mr. Ross?”

Ryan took in a slow breath. “I wanted to know what you want from me.”

That didn't even throw Brendon for a loop. “I wanna take you out and make you feel special,” he told Ryan with a wide grin. “Hold your hand and all that shit, help you relax and maybe give you an awesome orgasm or two.”

Ryan nodded slowly. “So... A relationship.”

Brendon also nodded. “A relationship.”

“Even with my line of work?” Ryan asked, needing to check. “I have crazily erratic hours, I don't even come home sometimes. I'll get called in with a five minute notice because Banner scared some intern or another, or Barton shot down shit he shouldn't have. And I'm grumpy and I literally need coffee to do anything and I have a cat and I can be a real dick. I don't have a sense of humor half the time and I take at least two showers a day.”

Brendon shrugged. “I'm fine with all that. I've dated real assholes before and I find a clean man a sexy man. Coffee is my art and cats are cool. Also, you're hot. And Jon says you're a cool guy so I'm down.”

Ryan smiled wryly, because everything sounded easy in theory. 

Brendon grinned wider. “Go on a date with me?”

Fuck, but that smile was perfect. “Friday night,” he sighed. “I'll get dinner.”

The other man threw his fist into the air in triumph and Ryan couldn't stop himself from chuckling while he inwardly prayed that he hadn't just made a huge mistake.

. . .

“So I see you've got a new piece of arm candy,” Stark was shouting to Ryan through the glass of his workspace. Ryan was standing outside the glass with Cpt. Rogers. The taller, stronger man was watching Stark work with a fond expression and Ryan suddenly remembered he'd seen Rogers leave Stark's bedroom this morning.

Fuck, this was going to be a lot of work.

“Brendon,” Ryan shouted through the glass. “Brendon! And he's not candy!”

“He seems nice,” Cpt. Rogers said with a polite smile. Ryan just nodded his agreement before banging on the glass.

“Get the fuck out of there!” he shouted. “Rogers wants you to make him feel loved after you fucked him!”

He heard Rogers gasp as he watched Stark slowly grin up at him, turning off the gun. “That obvious?” the man asked with a proud, almost arrogant expression. A face that said “look what I did and you're jealous” and made Ryan want to punch him in the face.

Ryan just walked back up the stairs with the parting words, “he's not candy!”

. . .

“Get some, get some, fire at will!” Brendon shouted from the back of the room. Jon handed over Ryan's coffee on the pleasant Sunday morning with a wry grin.

“He watched X-Files last night and apparently heard something he liked,” Jon explained. 

“Is it bad that I hate myself for finding that to be fucking adorable?” Ryan groaned, resting his head in his hand. It had been a long week of awful and Ryan really needed a break, but he had a meeting with a Congress man who was feeling sore about Stark badmouthing him when drunk and now Ryan had to make the old fart feel better about himself with a clean suit and folded hands. He hated Congress. He hated the government. He kinda just hated a lot of things and the list of things he didn’t hate was much shorter and easier to remember.

Jon shrugged. “I thought it was adorable until I saw what episode it was from.”

“Lemme guess,” Ryan said. “It had something to do with murder. And aliens. I’ll bet there was some angst about a missing sister. Maybe even a bit of governmental conspiracy.”

“Your sense of humor is so dry, I’m pretty sure it’s fossilized,” Jon sighed. “Maybe you and Brendon should go to the ocean. Get something in your relationship wet.”

Ryan frowned. “What has he told you?”

“That he’s horny and you’re not,” Jon chuckled as he began to wipe down the counter. “Almost feel bad for him, really, if he wasn’t already in the habit of jacking off at least twice a day. He’s a fucking rabbit, I swear to god, I almost want to send him to a doctor. Can’t be healthy, being that horny all the time.”

Ryan scowled a bit and stirred his drink. “We’ve been dating only a month,” he grumbled. “Haven’t even kissed yet.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Jon replied with his hands in the air in defense. “You’re taking this seriously. Which is weird, I never pegged you for the serious type of guy.”

“That’s because I seriously like Brendon,” Ryan said in a small voice, almost hoping Jon hadn’t heard him. Except Jon really had. And know he was giving Ryan this shit eating grin that made Ryan want to smack his head into the wood counter. “Just because you heard it doesn’t mean you can share it,” he huffed as he downed half his cup.

“But sharing is caring,” Jon replied lamely.

“Well I don’t care, so I don’t share,” Ryan shot back.

“You’re not me,” Jon smirked.

“Jon,” Ryan moaned, face on the bar now. “Please. I have had bad days after more bad days and I’m fucking tired. And now I have to deal with Brendon needing to be fucked so he won’t leave me.”

“I never said Brendon was gonna leave you,” Jon said with a frown. “He likes you too, you know. He’s not some slutty guy that lays them and leaves them, he wouldn’t have even asked you out if he didn’t plan on having some long term. Too many times, this poor kid has been left in the dust because he just wasn’t what the other person planned. He’s nervous, Ryan. And he really likes you.” 

Ryan was silent for a moment. “… I’ve dated three people my whole life, and all three of them cheated on me before breaking up with me.” He smirked, though it was sad and didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny. I was always willing to fix things, cause isn’t it usually the person who cheats who has the problem? Turns out, it was always me. I was the problem and they’re the one who just didn’t know what to do with me but try and get me to leave them.” He sighed and took another swallow. “Was too stupid to do that.”

“So you’re both shattered men,” Jon sighed. “Pretty sure you can fix each other. Just talk, right? You’ve only been on dates so far. Why don’t you try to do something a bit more?”

Ryan nodded slowly, thinking as he finished his drink. He opened his mouth to say something once the cup was empty, but then his phone went off and he felt like crying. “Fuck these fucking assholes!” he almost shouted before hitting answer and bringing it to his ear, saying “Mr. Ross, Rep for Tony Stark speaking, who is this?” in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

Ryan felt like he died a little on the inside when he heard the snide voice of the Congressman’s secretary telling him he was late for an 11 o’clock A.M. meeting while Ryan’s watch read it was only 9 A.M.

He waved goodbye to Jon and hustled outside, stressed out and worn thin.

. . .

Ryan had his head against a wall, literally.

The Congressman had called for a public confession, which Stark, of course, denied.

Stark had accidentally fucked up a booster on his suit and had broken a nice, large, iron statue that had been standing in Central park for nearly a century.

Dr. Banner had crashed through three stories of expensive scientific equipment.

Frank Iero had accidentally set Ray Toro’s afro on fire with a soldering gun.

Agent Barton had shot an intern in the foot because he’d been “startled.”

So Ryan was in his office, lights off, door locked, blinds closed, his head resting on the cool wall behind his desk, breathing shallowly and trying not to cry from the stress. Ryan just needed a good ten minutes of peace and quiet and no robots. He just needed to take a moment for himself and fucking breath before he either broke down crying in the hall way or smashed Stark’s head in with one of his own helmets.

There was a knock at the door.

Ryan bit down on his lip, hard, to keep from screaming. 

“If that’s Frank Iero,” he called out, too angry to keep his wrath from showing in his voice. “You better have fucking flowers for me and Toro, because this is just a little too much!” He threw open the door, looking down because he thought it really was Iero. But then he was staring at a New Found Glory shirt decal, so he had to lift his head to see who it actually was.

Brendon was standing at his office door with wide eyes, a large paper cup of something hot, and a paper bag that smelled absolutely heavenly.

“… Hi,” Ryan said because his brain had short-circuited. 

Brendon blushed and smiled shyly before replying, “hi.”

Ryan took in a long, deep breath, stepping back. “W-wanna, uh, wanna come in?”

“Are you busy?”

Ryan shook his head. “I mean, yeah,” he corrected. “But I don’t wanna be, so I won’t be for a while. I’m happy to turn away from work, turning away for you just makes it all the better and even more tempting.”

Brendon’s smile grew into a large grin and he slipped into the room, not even commenting on how dark it was. “Bad day?” he asked instead, and Ryan could hear the sympathetic look Brendon had to be wearing. Suddenly, he wanted the lights on so he could see him. So Ryan flicked the switch for his desk lamp to compromise and smiled tiredly at Brendon’s eager face.

“Bad day,” he repeated to affirm him. “Bad week. Bad month, really. Problems don’t get solved in a few days here. It’s more of a commitment than a process.”

“Sounds rough,” Brendon said with a soft smile. “Well, I got your regular and a freshly baked croissant, courtesy of Behind the Sea.” He held out the cup and the bag, which Ryan accepted gratefully. “I just, I heard that you were on the phone right after yelling something harsh, so I figured it’d be nice to drop by and maybe try and brighten your day.”

“Jesus,” Ryan practically moaned. “You’re a god. You’re a godsend, a savior, something.” He sighed heavily and dropped into his seat, tearing open the bag and just soaking in the warmth of the fresh pastry. “You’re amazing, Brendon.”

Brendon blushed, then gigged, actually giggled, and that’s when Ryan fell in love.

Fuck.

. . .

“So you’re in love with him,” Spencer sighed. “I’m not seeing the problem again. I’m actually seeing a really good thing. You don’t love easily, Ry, especially romantically. It’s amazing that he makes you feel this way.”

“And fucking terrifying because he makes me feel this way!” Ryan hissed, trying to keep his voice down because it was two A.M. here, even though it was nearly dinner time with Spencer, and he really didn’t want to piss off any neighbors. “Seriously, Spencer, I don’t fall for people, and especially not this quickly! I’m fucking scared!”

“Oh my god,” Spencer groaned. “Ry. Seriously. I love you, man, you know I do, but you can’t be happy with living alone forever with you and your cat. That’s not what you want for your future, I know you don’t.”

“But I really am scared, Spencer,” he sighed. “I’m fucking scared. I-I’ve already opened up to this guy so much, not actually, but just, I need him. I was ready to drop off the face of the earth, but then he was in my office and everything was hunky-dory! I’m dependent on him, Spencer! I’ve never been dependent on anyone!”

“Oh, how you cheapen our love.”

Ryan winced. “Sorry, Spencer. You’re right, I’m dependent on you. But I trust you. I know you. You wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t even know this guy’s birthday.”

“You don’t know my birthday either.”

“I know your birthday,” Ryan huffed. “September second, 1987.”

“… Huh. So you do, Ross.” Ryan could hear Spencer’s smile and took comfort in it. “I really am surprised. I could have sworn you were shotty when it comes to dates.”

“Stop confusing my negative traits with your own and help me work past my trust issues,” Ryan sighed. “I’m sure Cairns is lovely this time of year and I’m sure you have plenty bombshells begging to follow your every whim, but I really need your help. I don’t have anyone else to go to.”

“You could ask Cpt. Rogers.”

Ryan paused. “Could I?”

“I don’t see why not,” Spencer replied, probably shrugging his shoulders or something. “It’s an option, Ry. He seems like a really good guy, best guy out there. The 40’s were great with human affinity to peace and love. And shit.”

“That was the 60’s,” Ryan sighed. “Beatles, remember? My entire life?”

Spencer sighed. “Look, I’m half drunk, baked by drugs and sun, and tired. I’m trying to help you, but you don’t like the words I’m saying. I don’t know what else I can do, Ry.”

Ryan sighed too. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll let you go.”

“I love you, Ryan,” Spencer said before Ryan could hang up. “And I think this Brendon guy could be good for you. So I’m telling you not to run from this, okay? Don’t run from someone you love. He seems like he can love you back.”

“… Bye, Spence.”

“Bye, Ryan.”

. . .

“And then the espresso machine just started spewing steamed milk like it was possessed,” Brendon was gushing with hand gestures and a wide grin. His fork that still had a pasta noodle was flying through the air with his hands as he spoke and Ryan was laughing so hard it hurt. 

“Fucking burned the asshole’s feet cause he never wears real shoes, you know?” Brendon continued. “Any way, the inspection officer walks up to him with these dead eyes, like he’s never been hugged in his life, and he asks something stupid, about regulation and shit, and then poor Jon, who’s about to cry, lemme tell you, just screams in his face and then there’s coffee everywhere and that’s the story of how the amazing Jon Walker got fired from Einsteins!”

Ryan wiped his eyes, taking a moment to calm down, though the smile stayed. “Would he be pissed that you told me this?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Brendon said flippantly before taking another bite of his pasta. “Dude, have you had this stuff? It’s like sex. Sex with starch and tomatoes.” He moaned as he forked more into his mouth, then stabbed another bite on and held it out to Ryan. “You gotta try this. I can’t keep this to myself. I must share this with you.”

“No thanks,” Ryan said with a grin. “I’m pretty happy with my meal.”

“Your soup has nothing on my pasta,” Brendon said. Then, after a moment, “Seriously, Ryan, what’s with the soup? You ate half a turkey last time we were together, a plate of gyros before that. Now you’re happy with a kid sized bowl of soup?”

Ryan shrugged. “I’m not hungry when I’m stressed,” he admitted.

Brendon frowned. Then held out his fork again with a heaping sized coil of noodles. “Eat this or I’ll pin you and force it down your throat.”

“Oh, Brendon,” Ryan drawled sarcastically. “I think I’m gonna have to ask you to maybe wait for us to have our first kiss before you start shoving things down my throat and telling me to swallow.”

Brendon was silent.

Ryan frowned. “Brendon? Is something—”

Brendon leaned across the table and kissed Ryan soundly.

And it was kind of fucking awesome.

. . .

“You’re pretty spritely,” Stark said when he saw Ryan walked past with three new folders of complaints the next day.

“You know,” Ryan began as he sorted out the summaries of each complaint so Stark wouldn’t have to read too much. “I bought you that thesaurus so you could use words other than expletives when addressing personal matters inside the company. Not so you can find new ways to try and throw me off.” He left the pages on the desk so he wouldn’t have to hand them to Stark. “And joke's on you, I know that word.”

“Yeah?” Stark shot back with a smirk. “Use it in a sentence.”

“The despotic man extrapolated with a spritely tone that resonated with the despondent townsmen.”

Stark stared. “You sure you’ve got a degree in law? I mean, I know the words too, but it’s still cool to hear them. I’m really impressed. How much am I paying you?”

“Plenty,” Ryan sighed, and the paycheck really was huge.

Stark hummed, not even looking at the print as he set the leg of one of his suits on top of them. “… You’re getting thin, Ross. Cap noticed, but Barton’s really the one getting worried. Him and Toro. You eating enough?”

Ryan grimaced and didn’t answer.

“I’m not going to fire you,” Stark said. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t just fire people because they piss me off. You haven’t done anything to piss me off. You even make the coffee the way I like it and handle all my tiks and you’re a great wound dresser. I’m not gonna fire you. I’m just worried about you. The job is stressful, yeah, but it’s even worse when you take it home with you.” He stared at Ryan for a long moment. “… You know, you can tell me when I put a bit too much shit on your shoulders.”

Ryan sighed. “It’s not you,” he admitted. “I’d be able to handle this like a fucking pro if I weren’t battling my own demons on the side.”

“I can get behind that,” Stark said with a knowing smirk that was a bit too sad for Ryan’s liking. “So what’s the flavor of the day? Bad news? A crippling lack of self worth? Daddy issues? Or maybe something a bit more commercial?”

Ryan smirked back. “… I fell in love a bit too quick. And it’s freaking me out.”

“Yikes,” Stark hissed. “Man, that’s a whole new devil for me too.”

“Cap?” Ryan asked, though he knew the answer.

Stark nodded. “Cap.”

“The star spangled man with a plan,” Ryan sighed, before moving to the mini kitchen Stark had in his basement work room and worked on pouring Stark something with caffeine. He added a dash of whiskey for the genius’s benefit, knowing the torture of a restless mind with unwanted intimacy. “I hope you plan on giving that man a ring if you keep it going.”

“What?’ Stark frowned. “I started dating him him a little over a month ago.”

“Started fucking two months ago,” Ryan agreed, just to show Stark that he was up to date and with the program.

“Why would I already be putting a ring on it?”

Ryan smirked. “Not know, Stark. But if you go for more than four years, I’d have to kick your ass into gear. Someone else is gonna put a ring on his finger if you’re not the one to do it.”

Stark frowned. “You think?” he asked after a quiet moment of thought. Ryan nodded.

“Steve Rogers,” Ryan said. “He’s Steve fucking Rogers, Stark. Anyone’s gonna want a piece of that. Especially when he does that reassuring half smile that makes you feel safer than the orbit of the moon.”

“Orbit of the moon?” Stark repeated. “Your metaphors are weird.”

“What’s more reassuring than the idea that the moon will always orbit earth?” Ryan asked with a shrug.

“Astronomers will fight you on that idea.”

“Only some,” Ryan sighed.

“I’m gonna give you the next week off.”

Ryan looked up with a frown, not sure he heard him right. “Repeat that?”

“The next week?” Stark busied himself with the leg. “You don’t come in. You stay home and get some TLC and get yourself fattened up and happy. You’re a stick. People don’t like talking to skeletons.”

“Reminds them of the ones they’re hiding,” Ryan sighed.

Stark frowned. “Seriously, Ryan. You’re a poet.”

“Not that you’d appreciate it,” Ryan griped as he grabbed the folders. “Do me a favor and read through the grease, okay? I need you to read these so you can tell me how you want me to tell them to fuck off.”

. . .

“You get the week off?” Brendon squeaked in excitement through the speaker. Ryan grinned softly at the sound of his voice and the added happiness and nodded, knowing Brendon wouldn’t be able to see it.

“So, I was thinking,” he said. “Maybe, go out for dinner, then come back to my place? You’ve never been before. You’ve never met my other half.”  
 “I thought I was your other half,” and his pout was audible. “Corporal Knots, right?”

“Captain,” Ryan corrected with a wider grin. 

“Oh captain, my captain.”

Ryan hummed softly. “Sound good?”

“Sounds amazing!” Brendon sang. “Pick me up at seven?”

. . .

The week goes by too quickly.

Ryan’s favorite night was the second to last night. 

The night where he and Brendon had come back from some time in a high rise restaurant with a view that could kill. It was so dangerously beautiful because Brendon kept talking about wishing he could jump from the ledge and fly through the lights. Brendon wasn’t stupid, but he was impulsive, so Ryan had held onto his arm extra tight.

They took the long way home, on foot, and Brendon’s hand fit perfectly in Ryan’s so he didn’t mind the walk. And they hadn’t been mugged and no one had bothered their night because Ryan left his phone at home and trusted Brendon’s phone to be used in emergencies.

Brendon had walked into Ryan’s apartment like it was his home, even though he’d only been inside less times than the fingers on one hand. Brendon had greeted Cpt. Knots and Cpt. Knots had played with Brendon’s fingers. They’d watched a movie, the original War of the Worlds, and Brendon had spent most of the hour and twenty-five minutes kissing Ryan’s face and lips and jaw and neck, curled against Ryan’s body like he belonged there.

Ryan doesn’t remember how the movie ended.

Before the credits had rolled, Brendon hand had slipped his hand under Ryan’s shirt and suddenly every nerve in his body was alight, singing under Brendon’s fingertips and making it hard to think. They’d ended up sprawled out on the bed together and Brendon had fucked him, so amazingly slow and perfectly, their fingers knotted together the whole time, sharing air as they kissed. 

Ryan remembered flying so high at the end of it that he was seeing stars on his ceiling. And Brendon inside him had felt more like religion than just sex, something almost spiritual and ethereal, like Ryan hadn’t been real until Brendon filled him. Ryan had always dreamed of being a poet, a song writer, so his memory was full of light and moans and surreal moments of just existing and chasing pleasure. 

But the best part was waking up with Brendon sleeping, using Ryan’s arm as a pillow, the sunlight rousing him.

The best part of being woken up by the sun was that Ryan’s bedroom window faced west. It was past lunch before Ryan woke up the next day and his body was well rested and sore in all the right places. He’d kissed Brendon awake and they’d fucked again, and again, and then once more before taking a shower together and heading out to eat from someplace that served food just before midnight. Ryan hadn’t wanted to go to work the next morning, but he knew he was needed. Brendon had promised to bring him coffee, and everyone else coffee, and that had been what got Ryan out of bed. 

He wasn’t happy to be back at work, but he was happy to have lived the last couple days.

. . .

“You look amazing,” Cpt. Rogers said with a grin. “Not, I mean. You don’t look terrible, Mr. Ross, you hardly ever look terrible, you just look a lot better.”

Ryan managed a small smile at Roger’s fumbling chivalry and politeness and pat his shoulder. “Had a good week,” was all he said concerning the matter. “Now how bad did it get?”

Cpt. Rogers shrugged. “Not awful. Clint was the hardest part. He wanted to keep tabs on you, but Tony threatened to botch his bow. That started a fight and Tony didn’t win, but he tried. After that, they just rounded each other like wounded dogs, it was actually pretty funny.”

Ryan smirked at the mental image. “And the Iero problem?” he asked. 

“Good,” Cpt. Rogers said. “Mr. Toro wanted to talk to you, though.”

Ryan sighed, closed whatever folder he’d had in his hands, and nodded, getting up to find Toro and find out what could possibly be wrong now.

. . .

“I need your help in proposing to my boyfriend,” Ray said with this shaky tone that honestly made Ryan feel bad for ever feeling frustrated with this guy. It wasn’t Ray’s fault that he worked with Iero. And Ryan hadn’t know that Ray was gay, so it was nice to learn something a bit more personal about the robotics engineer. 

“How long have you been together? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him,” Ryan asked because he was genuinely curious. 

“Mikey Way,” Ray said, and there was this tiny, yet pure smile that tugged on his lips just by the mere mention of this guy’s name that had Ryan’s hard swelling and make him miss Brendon more than he ever thought he could. “I’ve been with him for nearly two years but I know he’s the one. I met him during the Battle, he was ducking out of the street and nearly got hit by a car that was being thrown. I-I grabbed him and we hid in the subway.”

Ryan raised a brow. “That’s pretty fucking unique,” was all he could say.

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “Anyway, he has this brother who’s a comic book writer. And they’re both actually kinda nerds and it’s super cute and I love it, you know? And they’ve never been through the tower, never even been in the lobby, so, uh, I was wondering if I could ask for some leniency?”

“To do what?’ Ryan asked because he had to. Most people would be surprised to learn that Ryan was a bit of a romantic, so he was eager as fuck to help Ray propose.

“I wanna take him to the top,” Ray explained. “The penthouse, you know? The deck. And propose to him there, cause, I-I’ve been up there once, and it was, well, it was magical. And I want the proposal to be magical and I’m not, like, super rich so I can’t afford a big showy thing, so I was wondering if maybe I could say I’m giving them a tour? But really I’m taking Mikey up top to propose.”

Ryan’s grin was so wide it hurt. Toro actually looked a bit surprised to see Ryan smile. Ryan got it— he only ever was frowning around Ray because with Ray came Frank. They were just a packaged deal and it always came express sealed with Ryan’s frown.

“I’ll talk to Stark,” Ryan hummed, actually a bit excited to help. “I’m sure he’s all for it. He’s told you about him and the Captain, right?”

Ray grinned too and nodded. “I won my bet with Iero.”

“Iero bet against them being a thing?”

“Iero bet that it would take longer,” Ray corrected. “Got fifty bucks from it. And awesome gloating privileges, so that’s a thing. What does the new power couple got to do with anything?”

“He’s more likely to do it because upon discovering he wanted to bone the Captain, he suddenly desired becoming part of the gay parade sort of crowd thing.” Ryan shrugged and shook his head. “It’s weird. One hundred percent a phase. But you guys help him blow shit up for scrap so he’s gonna let you. I’ll talk to him if he even considers saying no.”

“You think you can convince Tony Stark to do something he doesn’t want to?” Ray asked, brow up in surprise.

“I never said it’s convincing,” Ryan hummed. “Manipulation, more like.”

“Whatever it takes,” Ray said, arms in the air. “It’ll be in a month or so. That okay?”

Ryan opened his mouth to affirm Ray but shut it quickly when he saw Brendon approaching the small work table next to the water cooler that Ryan and Ray were at. Ryan blushed faintly, flashing back to their amazing week and night together and cleared his throat, standing and straightening the lapels of his suit jacket.

Brendon came up with a grin and a drink carrier. “I wanna meet your friends,” he said. “And everyone loves coffee, so I brought coffee so maybe everyone will love me.”

Ray arched a brow, glancing to Ryan and smirking a bit. He held out his hand to Brendon after Brendon had set down the drink carrier. “Ray Toro,” he introduced, smiling at Brendon in that special way that he smiled for everyone that Ryan knew was a gift. Ray could somehow make anyone feel more important than the sun when he smiled at them. 

Brendon grinned. “I’ve heard about you,” he said. “Lotsa stuff, you know? Not sure if it’s bad or good depending on your expectations and things, but Ryan’s pretty grumpy about everyone.” Brendon giggled and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. “I fucking love your hair, man! It’s like, a cloud of brown, so dirty maybe? Or shit, but that’s totally offensive, sorry. You want coffee?”

Ray shrugged, then nodded. “Coffee’s always good.”

Brendon took one of the cups out of the drink carrier and held it out to Ray, who took it and sipped the drink. Ray then grinned, looking at the cup. “This is ninety percent sugar, isn’t it?”

“Covering four shots of espresso,” Brendon replied. “Just the way Ryan likes it these days.”

Ray arched a brow at Ryan. “You got an addiction we need to address, Mr. Ross?”

“Get back to me when you handle all of Stark’s lawsuits,” Ryan grumbled, still watching Brendon like he wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him. Which was exactly what he wanted to do.

“Hey, Ry,” Brendon said with a softer smile, looking at Ryan like he had the same idea. “Everything’s not so bad, right?”

“Ray’s gonna propose to his boyfriend,” Ryan said with a grin. “I’m helping.”

“Ray has a boyfriend?” Brendon squealed with a childlike smile. “That’s so perfect! Oh my god, he must be so pretty! And nice, he has to be nice, I’ve heard that Ray Toro is a good person and only deserves niceness.”

Ray grinned at Ryan. “Good person deserving niceness?”

“Don’t gloat about it,” Ryan warned. “You want to propose up there, right? Stay on my good side and you’ll be guaranteed to go top side.”

. . .

Heart break didn’t have a place in Ryan’s agenda. 

It had been edited weeks ago to accommodate Brendon becoming a solid part in his busy life. There was a special open spot after work for Brendon only. Ryan would even get up thirty minutes earlier just to make time to talk to Brendon before he had to go to work if Brendon was working that morning.

Coming into work this particular day was awful because Frank was so erratic it was almost suicidal. Something was burning and Frank was crying like Ryan had never seen anyone cry. No one had gotten close to him in fear of evoking his wrath. Frank threw a mug over the top of one lackey’s head and Ray had ran to Ryan for help.

“I don’t know why he’s acting like this,” Ray was saying. “I mean, I can’t even think of what could be wrong. There’s not reason for him to be so upset.”

“A broken heart is one hell of a reason,” Ryan mumbled because he already had an idea of what was wrong. Ryan remember hearing Frank on the line with someone who wasn’t happy with him, and Frank wasn’t happy with whoever it was. Plus, Frank had been bringing in homemade lunch with a feminine touch these past couples weeks, so there was definitely something (more likely, someone) there.

Ryan was the only person brave enough to dodge whatever Frank was throwing and grab him and force to sit down. Frank was known for his temper. Ryan was known for being unable to put up with bullshit of any kind. So this was going to be a challenge.

“You’re going to tell me what happened or I’m going to force you to take paid leave;” and this was a valid threat. Frank loved his job because he could use his hands and see the consequences, not because he got a paycheck. A genius mind like Frank’s was needed in the company and Frank needed to use his genius. Once Ryan got it through Frank’s head that he was serious, Frank would yield.

“A girl,” Frank huffed. “Been dating her for a couple months. Found out she was using me to slowly save money and ship out of New York with her real boyfriend.” Frank snarled and tried to throw some sort of battery. Ryan stopped him, wrestled it from his grip, and whacked him upside the head.

“Keep throwing the fucking equipment and I’ll make sure you never touch a piece of machinery again,” he snapped.

Frank sighed and hung his head in his hands. “I didn’t love her,” he said. “Not yet. But it still sucked to be fucked over like that, you know? I mean, it’s stupid, but I feel almost violated…” He sighed again, actually whimpering. “And she lived with me because she said she needed to so I opened up my fucking home to her and gave her a place to sleep, a separate room! I didn’t even stay in the same bed as her! And she made me food and I shared my cash and helped her pay for school bills that weren’t actually a thing and this morning I saw her walking out the door to another guy. And the only thing I could think to do was to go to work. And just do something with my hands before I did something even more stupid than trusting someone like that.”

Ryan was silent for a long moment, choosing his next words carefully. “She sounds like a total bitch.”

Frank laughed, though the sound was choked with tears. It came out more broken than anything else. Ryan’s heart clenched at the sound. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Frank whimpered.

“Come get lunch with me,” Ryan said, because it wasn’t an offer but a set in stone thing that was definitely going to happen. “Right now. We’ll grab Ray and I’ll take you to my favorite place in New York, sound good? And just know that you don’t have to be okay for a while. I’m not gonna force you home, you can come here and work your fingers off, I’ll even stay after if you can’t handle going home.”

“I’m moving,” Frank said. “I-I don’t know where, but I’m moving. I just, I can’t. Be there. Not because I miss her, but because I was betrayed. I can’t stay in a place that has that many negative feelings, you know? I won’t be able to forget.”

“Stay at my place,” Ryan hummed. “I have room. You can look for a new apartment in peace.”

Frank scoffed, glancing to Ryan with an incredulous expression. “You hate me,” he said, voice catching on some sort of emotion Ryan couldn’t place. “Why are you offering? Why are you trying to help me? All I do is fuck up your day…”

“I’m not gonna deny that you piss me off,” Ryan replied. “But I’m not heartless. And I can’t even imagine how torn up you gotta feel, so I’m gonna help. Now get up. You and I are getting lunch with Toro.”

Frank just sighed and nodded and stood. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Just, before I forget. Thank you.”

Ryan waved him off. “I’m not naïve enough to think people would do that same. So just don’t worry about it.”

Frank grimaced and followed.

. . .

Lunch wasn’t actually all that awful. 

Brendon had welcomed Frank with open arms and an open smile and had made him as many stupid, convoluted sandwiches as Frank had asked and the two men had gotten along really well.

“No, no, no,” Brendon rushed to say. “Dude, Superman is way better than Batman, hands down!”

“How can you even begin to explain that?” Frank demanded with a wide grin, obviously excited by the conversation. Ray smiled secretly at Ryan from across the table, and Ryan returned it. Ryan also preferred Superman, though probably for a very different reason than others.

“His abilities alone!” Brendon cried out. “And have you looked at his girlfriend? She’s fucking hot as hell and he’s smart!”

“Batman’s smart too,” Frank huffed. “How do you think he made all that stuff?”

“Pretty sure Batman didn’t make most of it,” Brendon replied with an eye roll. “Didn’t his butler do it? Didn’t his butler do basically everything for him? Batman would’ve been dead the day his parents died if it weren’t for that butler! What kind of hero is that?”

“An infectiously human one.” Frank took a gulp of his coffee. “And I mean what has Superman done that makes him seem human?”

“He stopped a woman from killing herself,” Ryan interrupted softly, deciding it was a good time to let Frank know why he sided with Brendon. “Her name was Felicity Rose. Her mother had just died and she’d lost her job. Superman had been leaving Metropolis because he felt like he’d been neglecting America and stayed with this woman in Philadelphia all night just to talk her off the ledge. Then there was a teen girl, Regan. She felt like her doctor didn’t care because he got held up. Superman arrived just in time to tell her that it’s never as bad as it seems and that she’s stronger than she thought.”

Frank was quiet for a moment. “I’m not gonna argue anymore on principle,” he said in a subdued tone.

Ryan smiled softly and shrugged. “Everyone’s gotta be saved by somebody,” he said.

. . .

Frank was asleep in the guest room after having become best friends with Cpt. Knots. It had taken Frank a surprisingly short amount of time to actually settle down enough to fall asleep. Ryan wondered if it was the heartbreak. He remembered wanting to sleep forever after being cheated on and simultaneously dumped. He imagined it must feel worse the older you got.

“That stuff you said,” Brendon murmured, voice low as he lay beside Ryan in bed. “About Superman and why you liked him. I’ve kinda learned that people like certain things because they mean something to them. Like, the specifics.”

Ryan hummed, his arm laid out so Brendon could use it as a pillow and face him. He reached up and danced his fingertips along the skin of Brendon’s neck. “I hear a question,” Ryan whispered. “What do you wanna ask?”

Brendon bit his lip, anxiety flashing through his expression. “… Did you ever try to kill yourself, Ry?”

Ryan was quiet for a moment.

“Not entirely,” he finally relented, knowing he trusted Brendon enough to tell him this. “I had it planned out. You know, like how the therapists freak out over. There’s that bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge that goes from the city to the Eggs, you know? Of course you know, sorry. Thirty-five people try to jump off there every year so I thought it was as good of a place as any. Anyways, I was gonna jump off that. I had the date and everything, it was all marked on my calendar. August 30th, my birthday, I was gonna jump.”

Brendon whimpered and it sounded like unadulterated pain. “Who stopped you?” he asked in a broken whisper. “I-I gotta know who to grovel at the feet of…”

“Spencer,” Ryan told him. “My best friend, the one in Australia? He saw the circled date and knew it meant something else cause I wasn’t big on my birthday back then. He found my suicide letter shortly after. Got me away from my home and didn’t leave my side until the date had passed.”

Brendon whimpered again. “He seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Ryan affirmed. “My home life was kinda shitty. My mom was gone and my dad was a raging, abusive alcoholic. So it was hard to find reasons to stay alive. Spencer used to just be a friend when he saw that stuff when he was over to work on a History project. After that, he wouldn’t let me go. And now he’s my best friend. And he always will be.”

“I like him,” Brendon said. “I like him a lot now.”

Ryan smiled softly and leaned forward to place a kiss to the top of Brendon’s head. “Sleep beside me?” he asked. “It’s late. It wouldn't be safe for you to go outside and I’d kinda like to wake up to you again.”

“Okay,” Brendon said, then yawned. “Not like I could get up if I wanted. Your bed is amazing.”

Ryan grinned as Brendon nuzzled against him and they both shut their eyes, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

. . .

“So, if I asked you how you would ask someone, say, Brendon, to go steady, what would you say?”

Ryan looked up at Stark, who was sitting on his desk and playing with the Newton’s Cradle Jon had gotten Ryan for some sort of zen exercise. “Repeat that?” he asked Stark with an arched brow. “Maybe in a bit more straightforward way, so I know for a fact that you’re trying to figure out how to ask Captain Rogers to be your boyfriend.”

Stark pursed his lips. “That’s what I’m asking,” he finally relented.

Ryan smirked and sat back, crossing his arms and feeling pretty good of himself. “I knew you liked him.”

“Of course you knew I liked him,” Stark huffed, rolling his eyes. “I told you I liked him, I was talking to you through the glass and yelled it, how can I not know you knew I liked him? I just like him more than I thought.”

“I knew that,” Ryan shot back. “I know everything, Stark. I’m Big Brother.”

Stark frowned. “You’re in a chipper mood. Any reason why?”

“Nothing,” Ryan said, waving it off. “Sorry. I don’t know everything, to an extent. How do you want to tell Captain Rogers?”

“Steve,” Stark sighed. “And I’m Tony, Jesus. You’d think you didn’t give a shit about me.”

Ryan just smirked wider. “How do you wanna propose going to steady with Steve Rogers?” he asked, deciding to give in to poor Stark since he was obviously, at least visibly, nerve wracked about this, though only in his eyes. “You’d think we’re in middle school again. Not that I don’t support the both of you in every way possible, just be sure to use a condom.”   
“You’re the worst, Ross,” he said. “And I’ll have you know I’m on the pill.”

Ryan actually laughed a little at that. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, not wanting to waste anymore time.

“Something forties,” Stark sighed. “You know, in a way that makes him feel good about when he is now. I know it can’t be fun, the culture shock and shit with no way to go back, but I wanna make it sentimental for him.”

“This is the least selfish I’ve ever heard you,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you go simple? At the park or something? How do you even ask that? Why’re you even asking?”

“It’s hasn’t been explicitly stated between us that we’re solid,” Stark sighed. “I’m developing anxiety, no, I really am. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” Ryan assured him. “So why don’t you just say it? Next time you see him. Tell him what you want.”

“That’s scary,” Stark frowned.

“That’s efficient,” Ryan corrected. “And the adult way to do it.”

“Fuck being an adult,” he sighed. “I can’t, like, get him flowers? Spell it out with candy? Write it on my dick with sharpie for him to see when he goes down on me?”

Ryan snickered. “Please don’t do that.”

“Then give me a better idea,” Stark sighed.

“Don’t do anything but tell him,” Ryan hummed. “Straightforward is pretty romantic. People were pretty straightforward in the forties, you know. Watch some movies from back then, like War of the Worlds.”

“That was the fifties,” Stark corrected.

“The statement till rings true,” Ryan said. “Tell him. Just sit him down and say, “I’m in over my head and I’m happy to drown with you.””

Stark looked impressed. “You really should’ve been a poet,” he said. “Too bad. The artistic world is suffering a huge loss. You could, at the very least, have been hired to write music. I mean, you’ve got the talent.”

“Talent doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed a future,” Ryan said. “Just tell Steve. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Fine,” Stark said. He tapped Ryan’s desk with three fingers before getting off and leaving. “Good luck with Brendon. And eat more, please. Oh, and I’ve been reading your emails. Ray can have my deck and my Cap for as long as he needs.”

Ryan just nodded. “Don’t lock the door behind you.”

. . .

“You’re gonna propose!” Brendon gushed, smiling so wide that Ryan was worried he’d hurt his cheek. “Oh my god, Ray! Ray! Fucking Ray, you’re gonna propose! I’m so fucking happy, you’re gonna propose! Who’re you proposing to again?”

“Mikey Way,” Ray replied with a grin. “He’s, uh, he’s getting his doctorate in Psychology at Argosy and I’m kinda really proud of him.”

“You’re proposing,” Brendon hissed in excitement. “This month! This month you’re proposing! You’re gonna have a husband, Ray!”

“I don’t know if he’s gonna say yes…”

“He’d be stupid not to,” Frank hummed, drinking the coffee Brendon had brought him, straight black like Frank liked. “I mean, I haven’t met the guy. None of us have, but we’ve heard enough, and this guy sounds pretty in love with you. I wouldn’t sweat it, Ray. You’re guaranteed a yes.”

Ray smiled a bit nervously. “I’m just anxious, you know? There’s so much that could go wrong…”

“It won’t,” Ryan assured him, not looking up from his computer. Ray, Frank, and Brendon were all in Ryan’s office, eating lunch like they usually did these days. “I’ve got everything set up. You’re gonna get them here under the guise of a tour, then take them up top, get down on a knee, and pop the question. Just tell me why I need Captain Rogers again?”

“Mikey’s brother, Gerard, he really likes Captain America,” Ray reminded him. “I mean, like, reading the comics since he was a kid, a fan. And he’s pretty eccentric and nice and I just think it’d be cool for him to meet Captain America with this.”

“Sucking up to the family, huh?” Frank teased with a cheeky grin. Ray blushed and shrugged.

“I can do it,” Ryan sighed before slamming his hands on his keyboard, losing patience. Everyone else in the room quieted as Ryan ducked his head and ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to keep calm.

“Ryan?” Brendon called out timidly.

“Sorry,” he said abruptly. “Sorry. Just, the same fucking Senator is throwing a fit again. And he’s just a fucking dick and he’s just your average of white guy in charge of everything and doesn’t care about the future because it’s not like he’ll be here to see it.”

Brendon winced in sympathy and reached out for rest his hand over Ryan’s. “Anything I can do to help?”

Ryan looked to Brendon and smiled a bit sadly. “Seeing you is perfect,” he sighed. “I’ll figure this out. It’s not like the asshole can force anything out of us and it’s not like they can try to take the suits from Tony again. It’ll be okay, just be a headache at the same time.”

Brendon winced and squeezed his hand. “I’ll cook dinner,” he said. “I mean, wait, yeah. Yeah, I’ll cook dinner and bring it over, okay? When do you think you’ll be back today?”

Ryan pursed his lips, thinking hard, before reaching into his desk to pull out the copy of his house key he’d made some days ago, right after the amazing weekend. He slid it across the wood to Brendon. “Make it at my place if you want,” was all he said for explanation. He was able to keep his gaze on the computer for all of three seconds before he’d needed to look up at Brendon.

He saw Frank and Ray grinning like loons for the corner of his eye. Brendon was gaping at Ryan with shining eyes. 

“Really?” Brendon choked out, looking lichee was going to burst into tears any minute now. “Like, for real? Is this what I think it is? Cause if it is, then Jesus, I-I gotta get you one to mine cause you gotta know I want you to have it.”

Ryan smiled softly and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, even though he was so relieved to hear that Brendon would give him a key too. “You come over every day, anyways. I’m surprised I haven’t found your toothbrush yet. Just make dinner at my place, okay? I look forward to something not store bought.”

“I’m gonna make you the best dinner ever,” Brendon gushed, standing and gathering his trash. “I’m gonna have candles, a-and wine and there’s gonna be a mixtape on, a real mixtape, and it’s gonna be fucking awesome, Ry, I promise!” He rushed from Ryan’s office after a quick peck on his lips and trading statements of love.

“Best dinner ever!” Brendon called out before ducking out of sight, the office door falling closed.

Frank giggled. “I love that kid.”

“Back off,” Ryan grumbled, only half joking. His day was getting infinitesimally better with the prospect of a homemade dinner with Brendon, and he was ready to fight anyone who tried to keep him from it.

. . .

Candles catch fire to everything if you knock one over. 

Luckily, it didn’t get any further than Ryan’s stack of old papers from work, so nothing of value was lost. Brendon had been crying once they got the flames out, babbling about how he’d ruined dinner and made Ryan’s day worse and how he was so bad at everything and Ryan deserved better.

Ryan latched onto the broken way Brendon sounded and knew something else was going on. He kissed Brendon and held him close, coaxing him to the bedroom and lying down with him, gently kneading at Brendon’s back and prodding him to tell Ryan what was wrong.

There’d been an awful customer at Behind the Sea that morning. 

A bitter woman, roughly in her late twenties, as Brendon described it. She would’ve been pretty if she’d smiled. Instead, she’d snapped at Brendon, lied about her drink so she could get it for free, and had called Brendon a faggot. Ryan saw red, but the red bled to blue when he saw Brendon was crying. He got it. Brendon was one of the kindest people Ryan had ever met, and nice people didn’t understand the cruelty people can use for no reason. It wasn’t fair to anyone, and definitely something Brendon didn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan murmured to him in the dark, caressing Brendon’s cheek. “You did nothing wrong. The world’s an unhappy place full of unhappy people. It had nothing to do with you.”

“It hurt,” Brendon choked out, the crack in his voice cracking Ryan’s heart.

“I know, baby,” Ryan sighed, pulling him closer. “It’s gonna hurt, but not forever. Don’t let someone like that get to someone as amazing as you. They don’t deserve to have that type of hold over your life.”

Brendon whimpered and curled even closer. “You wouldn’t be that mean to me, right?”

“Never,” Ryan affirmed vehemently. “I’d rather die than make you feel this way.”

Brendon whimpered again. “Don’t die…”

Ryan smiled wryly and kissed Brendon’s forehead. “I’m with you till the end,” he promised, and knowing he’d do everything he could to keep that promise. “You’re it for me. I can feel it.”

“I-I read a poem,” Brendon mumbled. “Or part of it, at least.”

“Remember any of it?” Ryan asked, curious.

Brendon paused, thinking. “He, he was my North, my South, my East and West. My something and my, uh Sunday rest.”

Ryan grimaced. “Stop All the Clocks,” he told Brendon. “By W. H. Auden. You know what it’s about, right?”

Brendon shook his head.

“His lover died,” Ryan said softly. “The last stanza is arguably the most beautiful part, though you can argue any part of the poem is beautiful.”   
“How does it go?” Brendon asked.

“The stars are not wanted, pour out every one,” Ryan recited from memory. “Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

Brendon winced. “Okay, so, the fact that when I want to say I love you, and that poem comes to mind, that’s pretty gruesome, right?”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s a beautiful declaration of love,” he said. “Even if his lover has died. It’s about wanting the world to stop and mourn his lover, yet frustration comes because the world keeps going like nothing went wrong. It’s, like, how when something bad happens and you want to scream at the world to be quiet, but it never will. It’s infuriating because the world doesn’t care, but it’s comforting because the world doesn’t care.”

“Why aren’t you a singer?” Brendon asked curiously.

Ryan paused. “What?”

“I saw your journal,” Brendon explained. “With the words in it, the pretty ones. Lyrics, really. You can really write, Ryan. You should be out there making your words music. And don’t say it’s not music because I saw the staff you drew with the notes. Catchy, by the way.”

Ryan sighed. “I’m not good enough to make money from it,” he mumbled.

“Bull,” Brendon said. “It’s better than ninety percent of the shit I hear on the radio. And your words mean something, Ryan. Something other than sex and money. It’s about existence and futility and pain and love and it’s really amazing, Ryan.”

“I’m happy now,” Ryan said, wanting off the conversation, because he really was. “Without you, I wouldn’t have much of a reason to be here besides my job.”

Brendon huffed and settled down beside him. “Night, RyRo,” he said. “I love you.”

Ryan smiled. “Love you too.”

. . .

Today was the big day and Ray was a mess.

An actual mess, actually. He wasn’t able to button his shirt right and showed up with the whole thing askew. Stark had laughed and the Captain had been nice enough to point it out for Ray. 

Ryan’s head was also a mess and he could barely remember the plan, let alone the phone number he needed to call to keep some blackmailed (and totally fake) photos from going viral. Stark wasn’t with the Black Widow and Ryan couldn’t think of a more ridiculous threat. 

“I’m going to Ray’s station,” Frank said as he drank his third energy drink. He’d been up all night trying to seal a deal on an apartment in the same building as Ryan’s and Ryan had been kept up just as long, trying to convince his landlord that Frank was a thousand times better than any tenant the old man had ever had. “Maybe Mikey’s brother will be cool.”

Ryan shrugged. He hadn’t heard much about the brother sans him being a graphic novelist. “Just be nice, okay?” he asked. “I really want things go well for him.” As he was talking, Ryan walked into a desk. He stumbled and stared at the desk and tried to remember how long it had been there.

“You need sleep,” Frank said with a frown.

“Thanks,” Ryan grumbled, glaring at the table he still couldn’t recall the existence of. “Not like I didn’t say that three times last night.”

“Who knew a guy pushing eighty could stay up past us hooligans?” Frank asked with a smirk. “Seriously, though. Mr. Stan Lee seems like a pretty great guy. He’s got lots of stories, too, I really like the ones he told us about Cap from when he was younger.”

“He’s been around for awhile,” Ryan agreed. “He’s a good guy, really. You won’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you, will you?”

Frank shook his head, taking another swig. “You can trust me,” he said with a grin.

Ryan returned the grin and waved goodbye as he went in search of the closest coffee pot.

. . .

Ryan was staring at his phone, trying to decipher what was a keyboard smash message from Frank when he looked up and saw Ray with the Mikey Way and the Gerard Way. He perked up, mind going a mile a minute, and called out, “Toro!”

Ray looked up, as did the other two, and Ryan strode forward. “Toro,” he repeated, mind then going blank with exhaustion. 

“Hey Ryan!” Ray greeted with that wide grin Ryan loved so much. “This is my boyfriend, Mikey Way, and his brother, Gerard. Gerard's a comic book artist and Mikey's a grad student, getting his PHD in Critical Social and Personality Psychology up at the Graduate Centre.”

Ryan smiled in a way that he hoped was friendly and said, “Ryan Ross, PR Rep for Stark Industries and personal lawyer of Mr. Stark.” He handed them two business cards because he wasn’t sure if he should or not and just went with maybe. “Give me a call if you're ever FUBAR, gotta keep the company clean and that includes the extended relationships of the employees. Toro, Iero and Cpt. Rogers are waiting at your station, so you better hurry. You know how Stark doesn't like his toy soldier being kept from him too long.”

His heart stopped when all of that spilled out in one go, but kept his expression schooled. At least he hadn’t mentioned the proposal, thank fuck.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Ray sighed. When Ryan just shrugged, Ray sighed again. “Whatever. You’re gonna be up top at four, right?”

Oh, thank god. Ray wouldn’t run the plan by him if he didn’t think something was wrong. Ray knew Ryan knew he’d fucked up, fuck, he might even be worried.

Ryan nodded and opened his mouth to say something when Justin Timberlake’s “Suit & Tie” played from his phone. Ryan had never set anyone as that ringtone ever. Still, he had an idea. Ryan pulled out his phone and hit receive, saying Brendon’s name rather tersely, still tense from fucking up. Ray grinned and waved goodbye to Ryan and Ryan took that as his cue to escape before he spilled any more secrets.

“I fucked up,” Ryan sighed into the receiver. “And when the hell did you get the chance to change my ringtone?”

“Not the whole ringtone,” Brendon said, sounding chipper. “Just mine. You can make special ones for certain people, you know. I just wanted to make things easier for you so you know who it is before even looking at the screen.”

“Technology has gone too far,” Ryan sighed as he went into his office. 

“How’d you fuck up?”

“I totally spilled the beans about Cap waiting for them,” Ryan sighed, running a hand over his face. “To Mikey and Gerard. One of them, with the longer hair that’s, like, firetruck color, I think he’s Gerard. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.”

“Boo,” Brendon pouted over the phone.”The secret’s out.”

“I know, I feel awful,” Ryan sighed. “I mean, Ray didn’t seem too upset so hopefully I won’t be in too much trouble, but I’m really upset with myself for him, you know? Ray has spent so long planning this and I ruined half of it with a toss of a coin.”

“You flipped a coin?”

“Figure of speech that I’m not even sure is real,” Ryan explained.

“Pretty sure you’re just using it incorrectly,” Brendon giggled. “Give me thirty, okay? I’ll be up with a double espresso. You sound exhausted.”

“You’re a life saver,” Ryan moaned, slumping into his chair and resting his head on the desk. 

“But I can’t stay for the proposal,” Brendon said with a tiny voice, sounding sad. “I’ve gotta pick up shifts. My rent got raised and I don’t have enough for this month’s with the rate I’ve been working. So, uh, I won’t be at your place tonight either…”

Ryan frowned. “Why’d your rent go up?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon sighed. “Politics. Zoning. The upper levels with the rich people got upgraded and so us lower beings gotta pay for their increased water and heat and stuff. It’s not fair, but it’s the only place I’ve got that I can afford. Well, could afford.”

Ryan’s brain began working a mile a minute again. “Don’t worry about the coffee,” he said. “Stay there, okay? Keep working. I’ll figure something out.”

Brendon whimpered, but didn’t protest, meaning he had to stay anyways and would be giving up money if he’d brought Ryan the coffee as promised. “I love you,” he murmured, sounding broken and torn and unbelievably stressed.

“I love you too,” Ryan replied softly. “Work hard, baby. Don’t hurt yourself. We’ll figure this out.”

. . .

Up top, the world around them was crisp and clear, thanks to the slightly frigid temperatures. The view more than made up for it, and Ryan was leaning against the railing, watching Ray approach Mikey and Gerard, who were looking out at the city, with nervous feet. 

When Ray dropped to his knee in front of Mikey, Ryan could see the moment that everything changed for them as a couple. He pinpointed that moment to the look in Mikey’s eyes, the way it went from love to everlasting something. Ryan wasn’t a big fan of weddings, but this was a coupling he could get behind. Mikey and Ray really seemed like they’d last.

Ryan’s breath caught as his phone went off. He glanced away from Mikey and Ray kissing and holding each other like the world would end to his phone screen. His heart cried out for his own other half and smiled sadly when he saw the text from Brendon reading, “miss you.” He knew Brendon was beyond stressed and wasn’t letting on just how bad it was because Brendon probably didn’t want Ryan to worry.

Ryan sighed and replied, “proposal was beautiful wish u were here.” Then he put his phone back into his pocket and went to his office, suddenly feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.

. . .

“I got a date!” Frank exclaimed to him less than an hour later, smiling wide with bright eyes. 

Ryan sat up and managed a smile, truly happy for Frank. “Who’s the lucky girl?” He wasn’t sure who Frank could have met between giving the Ways a tour and the proposal.

“Guy,” Frank corrected.

“Guy?” Ryan repeated with a curious frown. “Didn’t know you were playing for both teams.”

Frank smirked. “You’d be surprised, RyRo. Anyways, guess who it is?”

Ryan frowned. “Barton,” he said, going out on a limb.

Frank frowned too. “Barton’s been with Coulson since Barton first came to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he huffed. “Why do you think he’s been Barton’s handler for so long?”

Ryan nodded slowly. Somehow, that didn't’ surprise him, though he was slightly perturbed by how literally everyone was suddenly gay. “Who is it, then?”

“Gerard Way,” Frank said with a grin.

“Firetruck guy?” Ryan asked, surprised.

Frank grinned wide and nodded. “Taking him to Behind the Sea. I’m really excited, too, god, he’s so, like, ugh!” Frank slid into the chair at the other side of Ryan’s desk. “The way he talks,” he gushed. “How he loves things, how he gets so passionate! It’s amazing!”

Ryan smirked. “Sounds pretty serious already.”

“Don’t jinx me,” Frank said. “Please. I-I really like him and I don’t want to lose him. Please.”

“I’ll help however I can,” Ryan said softly.    
“Thanks,” Frank said with a shaky smile. “I mean, I don’t know. I fell pretty hard and way too fast. I don’t know how, honestly, and it’s, it’s scary. But I’m happy.”

“I’ve been there,” Ryan said softly. “Brendon, he was the first time I’d ever actually fallen in love, after the third date. It’s scary, and you feel like you’re drowning, but you’re happy to do anything for the other person.”

“It sounds amazing,” Frank sighed. “I’m just, I’m really excited. He was awesome, you know? Eccentric and creative and just so smart.” Frank chuckled. “Artists, right? Just, I can’t even wrap my mind around him. He’s like Saturn. Fucking beautiful and dangerous and elegant yet harsh. I don’t know, Ryan. I’m falling hard.”

“I’m sure he’s gonna fall with you,” Ryan said. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, Frank. Genius and fun.”

Frank grinned wider. “Thanks, Ry,” he said. Then he paused. “Brendon wasn’t at the proposal. He’d seemed so excited for it before.”

Good feeling gone, Ryan sighed and nodded. “He’s got to work more because his rent went up.”

Frank frowned. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Ryan was silent, an idea coming to him.

Frank leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of Ryan. “Hey, you there?”

Ryan jumped. “… I’m gonna ask him to move in with me.”

Frank shrugged. “Good idea as any.”

Ryan jumped to action, gathering his things, tossing papers into his drawers that he could deal with later and throwing what couldn’t wait into his briefcase with little care. He stood and grabbed his coat and his phone, slipping that into his back pocket and grabbing his briefcase. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Frank offhandedly, leaving in a rush.

. . .

Ryan almost ran to Behind the Sea and when he got to the counter, he went on a stool on his knees and leaned in, grabbing Brendon by his apron and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Brendon let out this noise of surprise against his lips and Ryan swallowed it down, holding Brendon’s face in his hands.

“Move in with me,” he gasped when he finally pulled back on a few centimetres. 

“What?” Brendon breathed.

“Move in with me,” Ryan repeated, beginning to grin. “I mean, my place is great and it’s big enough. Frank is moving into the building so if you really don’t want to be serious, you can stay in the guest room. And it’s spacious and kinda lonely when you’re not there and you love being there, I know you do, and I love it when you’re there, so please, move in with me?”

Brendon matched his grin and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Fuck, yeah, okay Ry, I’ll move in with you.”

Ryan laughed in pure joy and kissed Brendon again.

. . .

There had been a small section of the contract Ryan had signed at the beginning of his job that had something to do with basically signing his life away. If Ryan died, no one could sue. That was just part of the job, being in danger is part of the job.

So when Ryan had gone to his office only to be held at gunpoint by some guy calling himself Hitman, a little voice in the back of his head grumbled, “about damn time.” 

Ryan hadn’t seen a gun since he was eight. His dad had bought one illegally, brought it into the house, and shot the neighbor’s dog. He’d ditched the gun in under six hours and Ryan had shut his eyes that night and had pretended he was anywhere but under that roof with that man.

Now there was a gun in his face and Ryan almost threw up.

It had to be a stupid plan. No sane person would come into Stark Tower and take the Public Rep of all people. Maybe he needed on the computer. Maybe he needed a hostage? Ryan thanked god Brendon was staying at work today, getting some extra hours before he moved in with Ryan. Fuck, Brendon. What if Ryan never saw Brendon again?

“Sit down,” the man growled. 

Ryan dropped into his seat behind the computer, still staring at the gun like he was going to suffer a mental breakdown and fail whatever this man wanted him to do and get himself killed.

“Log into the database.”

Okay, okay, Tony had made protocols for this, failsafes, alarms. There was a password Ryan could use, it would let him in just like his own password, but would trip a warning and help would be sent to where he logged in. Ryan just had to remember the password and everything would be okay, help would come and he wouldn’t die.

“Log in,” the man repeated in a low, dangerous voice, pressing the muzzle of the gun against Ryan’s temple. Ryan sobbed in fear but didn’t cry. “Do it before I kill you and move onto the next desk jockey, you piece of shit.”

Ryan bit his tongue and his vision went spotty for a moment. He shut his eyes and tried to breath past the muzzle touching his skin, before moving forward cautiously and typing in his login name, then what he prayed was the emergency password. Ryan’s desktop wallpaper came up and Ryan was somehow embarrassed when he remembered it was a picture of Brendon.

“Che,” the man spat. “Fag.”

The muzzle was pushed hard enough against his temple to hurt and Ryan whimpered. It was kinda nice, though, that he’d see Brendon before he died, even if it was just a picture. In the corner of the screen, a tiny window opened with a bit of code that Ryan couldn’t read.

“What’s that?” Hitman demanded. Ryan didn’t answer because he couldn’t answer. “I said,” he growled. “What is that?”

“I-I don’t know,” Ryan choked out. Then he was punched so hard he fell out of the chair and tasted blood.

“Wrong answer!” Hitman roared, striding over in his heavy boots to kicked Ryan hard in the stomach. Ryan choked on a noise of pain and curled his knees into his body, hands folding over his head like he would when his father was drunk enough to not care about leaving marks. The boot hit his rib with the next kick and Ryan bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

“Don’t need you now that I’m in, anyways,” the man snapped before pulling out a bottle of something and dumping it on Ryan. Hitman went to the computer, keeping the gun trained on Ryan. 

“Stay down,” he ordered as he brought up a few files Ryan recognized as new blueprints for some reusable energy prototype Stark had wanted him to look over for legal reasons. Then Hitman got up and pulled out a cigarette and that’s when Ryan smelled the gasoline that he was drenched in. Ryan’s heart stopped and he tried to get up to get away, but then there was a boot on his head and it felt like his head was being crushed between the floor and the boot tread.

“Too bad you’ve got to go out like this,” Hitman sighed, lighting his cigarette and making a show of it. “Look like you’ve got a fight in you most people don’t have. Shame.”

Ryan screwed his eyes tight and prayed burning alive wouldn’t hurt as much as the movies portrayed.

A crash sounded and Hitman was slammed against the wall. Ryan peaked up from under his arms and saw Cpt. Rogers in a t-shirt and jeans, fury burning in his eyes. Hitman had two arrows in his shoulder and Ryan knew Barton had missed on purpose. Then Dr. Banner and Stark had Ryan in their arms, rushing him out of the room. Something in Ryan’s rib cage snapped in a familiar way and Ryan blacked out.

. . .

Ryan woke up to Brendon sobbing his name.

He forced his eyes open after a struggle and realized he was in his own bed. Ryan looked to his left and saw Brendon, red-faced with tears in his eyes. His eyes were shut so Brendon couldn’t see that Ryan was awake. Ryan reached over and laid his hand over Brendon’s.

“Fuck!” Brendon called out, eyes going wide. Then his face contorted even further and he lurched forward, bringing Ryan into his arms roughly. Ryan winced in pain and knew a rib was broken, but Brendon’s entire frame was shaking and Ryan couldn’t deny him anything that could comfort him, so he steeled his jaw and bore the pain. 

“F-Frank said there was an break in,” Brendon was saying, choking on the words. “He, he was going to burn you, Ryan, you were c-covered in gasoline and he was going to burn you alive! A-and they said there was blood in your lungs c-c-cause of a rib and I was so scared…”

“It’s okay,” Ryan croaked, realizing he desperately needed water. 

Brendon heard it in his voice and pulled away, scrambling out of the room. Ryan heard him rummaging and clanging around in the kitchen, the tap going on, then off, before Brendon rushed back into the room, some water splashing onto the wood floors. Ryan took the cup gratefully and swallowed half of it down. 

“How long was I out?” he asked in a clearer voice.

“Less than a day,” Brendon said. “It happened yesterday. Stark was really worried, though he covered all that up with just bragging about how smart he’d been with the password thing. Agent Barton was so pissed…”

Ryan chuckled dryly despite the pain, wondering when he’d started to mean something to all these heroes.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked meekly.

Ryan sighed and nodded. “Not my first broken rib,” he assured Brendon with a soft smile. Brendon winced.

“Was it your dad?” Brendon asked in a shaky voice. “Cause, I mean, whenever you talk about him, which is almost never, you get this look on your face. And it’s kinda scary and sad and you look like you’re remembering something you wish you could forget. Was your dad, like, actually physically abusive?”

Ryan shrugged. “I knew the hospital layout pretty well at a certain point,” he said. “It wasn’t awful. I mean, he didn’t leave marks that lasted and he was just angry most of the time, always drunk. I’d only get hit one or twice every few months.”

“That’s still too much,” Brendon whimpered. 

Ryan shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not, like, traumatized. And I know how to suck it up when I’m hurting, so there’s that. Plus, I’ve got this great idea of what I don’t wanna be so, I never will be.”

Brendon just made an unhappy sound.

“… Do they know who he was?” Ryan asked.

“Burt Kenyon,” Brendon replied. “They don’t know who hired him. Tony Stark is looking, though, and so is S.H.I.E.L.D. E-everyone’s looking, Ryan, but they didn’t get anything. The files were up on your computer but they hadn’t taken anything.”

“Thank god,” Ryan breathed. “Okay, yeah. Please tell me I have the week off? I totally deserve the week off.”

Brendon giggled and Ryan was relieved to see a smile finally reach his eyes. “You have the week off,” Brendon affirmed. “Stark’s offering to double your pay if you’ll stay…”

Ryan scoffed. “Tell him I’m staying and he doesn’t have to double my pay.”   “You’re turning down more money?” Brendon asked with an incredulous grin. “Funny. I figured you’d love to upgrade.”

“I’m happy where I am,” Ryan said. “And I don’t think you realize how much I get paid already. Seriously, Bren, it’s a disgusting amount. Sometimes I look at my paycheck and feel a little queasy, it’s awful.”

“Ryan,” Brendon choked out, smiling but still looking pained. 

“I’m okay, Brendon,” Ryan assured him softly. “I’m alive, alright? And a broken rib isn’t that bad. I’ll have to be careful moving around and shit, but it’s not the end of the world or my life. I’m gonna be okay, okay? It’s fine.”

“If you’re sure,” he whimpered.

“Positive,” Ryan hummed. “Now get down here and kiss me.”

. . .

“You aren’t due back for two more days,” Stark told him after Ryan had knocked on the glass of his work-space. “Jesus, kid, every heard of resting before you slave over a hot stove again? That’s probably not how they say it. I gave you leave for a reason. I want you rested and alive and not, like, dead.”

“I was worried the office would fall apart,” Ryan said with a smirk. “It’s hard for things to keep going on sane levels when you’re not being kept to your word.”

“My word on what?” Stark asked. He set his wrench aside. “I’m surprised you even came back at all.”

“A gun to the head is pussy shit,” Ryan said as he looked through a manilla envelope containing orders from Fury himself, orders Stark didn’t care about, and orders that Ryan was finding to be a bit ridiculous. “It’ll take a lot worse than that to scare me away. Plus, I have this awesome routine already set up. I’m not gonna give up my monotonous schedule. It’s too zen.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “Really, I am. And…” He sighed and looked away. “Glad you didn’t get shot,” he said. “New carpeting would have been a bitch in there.”

Ryan smirked, taking the sentiment for what Stark wasn’t saying. 

“You should talk to Cap,” Stark said. “He took it pretty hard.”

“I’ll go see him,” Ryan promised. “Up top, right?”

“Up top,” he affirmed. “Oh, and Barton. Iero and Toro, too. Really, people were just kinda messed up by the blood and shit. And your job. I mean, everyone understood Pep getting into shit cause, uh, something. I had sex with her sometimes. But yeah, I don’t know, everyone just kinda thought you didn’t deserve to be in that situation or whatever. Everyone’s actually kinda mad at me.”

“Don’t know why,” he sighed. “I don’t blame you. Fuck them. Go back to the nonchalant, uncaring Tony Stark and give them the bird when they talk shit about something they don’t know shit about.”

“You think I’m uncaring?”

Ryan had to pause and look to Stark, surprised by the expression on his face. It wasn’t easy to make out, really, or understand, but Ryan had a hunch that he’d accidentally hurt him. “Not really uncaring,” he said. “Just, outwardly. You do care, yeah, we all know that. You just don’t show it all that well. Which is totally okay, Sta-T-Tony. It’s okay to be closed off and shit, god knows you’ve seen hell. I know you care. You just don’t show it.”

Tony just shrugged and waved him off. “Go tell them all you’re okay.”

Ryan sighed. “Will do,” he replied. “Tell Fury to fuck off. I don’t want to deal with him yet. I don’t want to deal with him ever, really, but you owe me this one.”

“Hear ya loud and clear,” Tony said, waving him off. “Prioritize. Everyone’s gonna want you at once.”

“How flattering,” Ryan huffed to himself as he left Tony to finish his work in peace.

. . .

Frank had come up to Ryan’s apartment at least once a day for a few hours a time after Ryan had woken up in his bed, so Frank wasn’t actually that shaken and needy to see Ryan. But Ray hadn’t even been at work when Hitman had shown up because he’d been given the day off to celebrate his engagement a few days before the actual vacation days he’d taken. Now he was wallowing in misguided self deprecation that Mikey could’t get him out of because Ray really loved to blame himself.

“You were on a vacation leave,” Ryan sighed as he leaned against Ray’s workbench while the other man avoided his eyes like the plague. “Hell, no one could have stopped it. The guy came out of nowhere, they said he knocked out the front desk guy. And unless you’ve got these secret mutant abilities, like your hair has a mind of its own and can become awesome tentacle grabby things, you couldn’t have done anything. No one could have.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Ray asked, still not looking at him. “I mean, he covered you in gasoline, Ryan. Fuck, the entire room smelled like a barbecue according to Frank. How the hell did you not start, start screaming or crying or just losing your mind? How did you stay cool?”

Ryan scoffed. “I was the furthest thing from cool,” he said softly. “Honestly, I was out of my mind. But I didn’t want to push my luck because he hadn’t shot me yet. Plus, it’s hard to do anything with a broken rib, really. But I’ve been scared for my life before, so I wasn’t a stranger in handling myself.

Ray sighed and nodded. “The Battle of New York took a lot out of all of us…”

Ryan shrugged, because that wasn’t it, but he was going to let Ray keep believing that, wanting to keep his family life bit more private. “You couldn’t have done anything, Ray.”

“And that’s the worst part,” he replied. “Ryan, there was a man in this building, pointing a gun at your head and I couldn’t have done anything about it. Just like I couldn’t have protected myself from rubble or aliens in the attack, and how I couldn’t have physically stopped a car from hitting Mikey in a crosswalk. I’m utterly helpless to save the people I care about if I have to and it’s really messing me up…”

Ryan winced, understanding Ray’s issue now. “A lot of us can’t do anything,” he sighed. “It’s why we need heroes, you know? If they hadn’t been there, the world would have been decimated, not just New York. We can’t always protect ourselves. So we need to be grateful that there are people out there, real heroes who can protect us for us.”

Ray sighed, ducking his head. “I’m glad you’re okay, Ryan,” he said in a tiny voice.

“I’m pretty glad about it too,” Ryan said with a grin, patting Ray’s shoulder. “Join us for dinner tonight? Frank is having everyone over.”

“I know,” Ray said with a tiny smile. “Me and Mikey were invited. Frank’s trying to butter up Gee, it’s actually really cute. I was over at Mikey’s and Gee was gushing about Frank and how Frank had asked him out and about how nervous he was, but excited and all that shit.”   
“Frank seems a lot better too,” Ryan added. “He doesn’t go shuttered and drawn like he usually does when thinking of that girl. Now he’s animated again. It’s awesome. He also cooks rather well, did you know that? He and B just cooked for me the whole leave, it was kinda awesome.”

“They spoiled you so hard,” Ray agreed.

Ryan sighed happily, smiling across the room at nothing. “It’s nice,” he murmured. “Being in a relationship like this. It feels real, you know? And yeah, we’ve disagreed and he’s hyper and I’m the opposite of that, but we never go to bed angry and we’ve never gotten in an actual, hardcore fight. It’s just, it feels good. Tangible and almost eternal.”

“That’s how it feels with Mikey,” Ray agreed, his own site gracing his lips. “Just, it’s love. It’s true love and all that Disney shit. I never thought I’d have anything like that, but then comes this bright light in the middle of the scariest day of my life. I could swear he was an angel, you know?

Ryan smirked and nudged Ray playfully. “You could romance the pants off of anyone,” he said. 

“Only one person I wanna be in the pants of,” Ray shot back.

“Such a gentleman,” Ryan snickered before standing upright. “I gotta go handle some miffed stock owners,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Seeya.”

. . .

“I really never believe anyone when they say they can cook until they actually fucking cook,” Mikey Way was saying as he stabbed at his tortellini. “But you, Frank Iero, can cook. And I should have believed you from the start.”

“I never even told you I could,” Frank said with his high pitched giggle.

“You didn’t,” Mikey agreed. “But some little bird told me and he was definitely right.”

Gerard, across the table, blushed and ducked his head, clearing his throat awkwardly. Ryan watched him with a smirk as Brendon giggled too.

“You guys are so cute,” Brendon gushed. “I mean, seriously, you two are adorable.”

“How was that date, by the way?” Ray asked. “How was the shop?”

“Amazing,” Frank said with a grin. Gerard glanced up and nodded is agreement, still so very shy. Ryan could tell he wasn’t a big group type of person. Gerard Way looked like he’d be more relaxed locked in a room with pen and paper, not people. “Really, it’s crazy to think you guys don’t have, like, an occult following already. Everything about it is so surreal and relaxing and I could totally get high in there.”

“And getting high in here isn’t enough?” Ryan asked with an arched brow. “I mean, you’ve got enough crazy music posters to induce a epileptic seizure. Lotsa colors, Frank. I’m pretty sure getting high in here would be a better trip.”

“On schrooms or something,” Frank scoffed. “Getting a buzz here would be like a buzz anywhere else. Behind the Sea would make me question reality.”

“You like getting high?” Gerard asked in a tiny voice.

Frank grinned at him and nodded. “How else do you think Ray and I make the crazy shit we do? We’re Stark’s favorite for a reason. We always bring him something new and convoluted and stupid and totally useless and he loves it.”

Gerard nodded.

Mikey smirked and cut in on his brother’s behalf. “Most of Gerard’s storyboard gets done with a blunt. He gets a creative high.”

“Dude, that’s awesome,” Frank said, smiling wide at Gerard. “We gotta get together some time and try that. Could totally be fucking awesome. I bet we’ll create, like, giant robots and shit from Pacific Rim or something. We’d totally have an army of giant robots! Dude, Stark would be so fucking excited!”

Gerard smiled with Frank and Brendon nudged Ryan from under the table, giggling at how cute the shy Gerard Way was in contrast with high-energy Frank Iero. They were a perfect contrast, kind of like Ryan and Brendon. They looked good together.

“Thanks,” Frank said with a smirk.

Ryan’s brow furrowed as Brendon laughed. “You said a bunch of that out loud,” Brendon explained, grinning like a loon. “And that’s awesome, RyRo. I’m glad you think we look good together.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I need more sleep,” he said for a lame excuse.

“Brendon keeping you up?” Ray asked with a ridiculous waggling of his brow. Ryan kicked his shin under the table and Mikey laughed when Ray yelped and this felt more like a family than anything Ryan had ever had.

He sat back in his chair and reached for Brendon’s hand under the table, feeling euphoric when Brendon met his hand and ran his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles.

. . .

“I’m all moved in!” Brendon announced over the phone in the morning a few days later. 

“Yeah?” Ryan asked as he beat Jon in a hangman match. He was sitting with Frank and Gerard at the counter of Behind the Sea. The only time Gerard and Frank separated was for work. Ray and Mikey were on their trip to California, so Frank hadn’t wanted Gerard to be alone and offered his home as a place to say. 

They were fucking noisy neighbors and Brendon teased them relentlessly. 

“Yeah,” Brendon repeated and Ryan could hear his smile, could picture it too. “So tell Jon I’ll be back for the lunch rush. But yeah, I put my clothes on the right side of the closet, if that’s okay. And we need to buy you more clothes, Ryan. More acceptable clothes.”   
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Ryan asked with an arched brow as he wrote out a curse word with his free hand, ragging on Jon for losing the game because that’s what friends did.

“I found a bandana,” Brendon deadpanned. “It’s not the 60’s anymore. You need to update your wardrobe.”

“I’m gonna put one scoop of sugar instead of four,” Jon hissed. Ryan flipped him off.

“Well, you can take me to the mall or something this weekend and we can play dress up,” Ryan told Brendon. “But I draw the line at sequins and leather.”   
“No leather?” Frank cut in, looking horrified. “You have legs like those and yet you refuse to wear leather? Such a travesty! A monumental loss for the entire world!”

Ryan also flipped Frank off. “I’ll see you during your break,” he hummed over the receiver. “Don’t forget that Spence is coming down in two weeks. It’s written on the calendar with his flight number, just in case. Love you, B.”

“Love you too,” Brendon replied with a giddy tone before hanging up.

“He asked me to paint you guys a mural,” Gerard said. He’d opened up with Ryan around the second time Ryan had opened an already unlocked door to find Gerard and Frank naked and in some sort of scandalous position. “Something about Superman?”

Ryan smirked and nodded. “I’ll pay you, “ he said, happy to do this for Brendon. 

“It’s a gift,” Gerard said after shaking his head to deny Ryan’s offer of payment. “I, uh, I heard what you did for Frank. After that woman. Think of this as my way of thanking you for him.”

Ryan smirked and reached over draw a heart on the napkin in front of Gerard. He then downed the rest of his drink and stood, tossing the cup into the nearby trashcan. “Frank and I have to go,” he announced. “Gee, you can start that thing now, if you’d like. Just use the spare key Frank has in his cupboard.”

Frank kissed Gerard goodbye before rushing to Ryan’s side and matching his gait. “I’m pretty fucking happy,” he said, still grinning. “You?”

Ryan smirked and shoved him playfully. “Pretty fucking happy,” he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> there's definitely going to be a third one from Frank's POV, just letting you know


End file.
